Hate
by CanaanAlshea
Summary: I Hated Him; Is There A Better Reason To Kill?


_Title: Hate_  
_Author: CanaanAlshea_  
_Character POV: Kurama_  
_Summary: I Hated Him; Is There A Better Reason To Kill?_  
_Warnings: Sexual Abuse._

I hated him; is there a better reason to kill? I know they'll ask me for an explaination when they come pounding on my door; Koenma and Yusuke, who could be called my friends or parole officers, depending on the situation. In this case, they were the ones who were to keep an eye on me, make sure I caused no damage to this world. I suppose they failed, in that regard.

Oh yes, they'll ask me why I killed him. I smirked, glanced down at my hands, wet with blood and guilt. They would need no confession. I simply sat back, sipped my wine (the last I would drink for centuries), and contemplated my fate. They would ask why I killed him...

And the reason was, because I hated him.

Was there any better reason to kill?

In my minds eye, I could so easily see Hiei and Yusuke trying to justify my actions without knowing the story behind it. Maybe I snapped. Maybe he'd been hurting my mother. Perhaps it wasn't me at all but I had simply been framed in trying to save them both. But, I couldn't let them do that.

Because they would be wrong.

Both my human parents lay dead before me. Kokoda was at a friends' house for the weekend; the police would tell him by the evening. He'd never have to see the bodies. I didn't kill Shiori.

But Kazuya? Oh yes. He, I killed. I smiled, sipped a glass of red wine and leaned my head back, trying not to see the dead eyes in front of me, blood soaking into my mother's painfully white carpet. I'd ruined it, really. I hoped she wouldn't hold it against me in the afterlife. I rested my chin on the back of my hand thoughtfully, noting the blood congealing thickly against my fingers. Mother didn't deserve to die. But, I didn't kill her. HE killed her...and he'd hurt me for far too long.

For this, I would gladly sacrifice my soul. I had saved my dignity, and avenged the only woman to ever have shown me love.

The records wouldn't show what had been going on for the past two years.

I find it odd to look back on, in all honesty. There were no warning signs, no blaring signals. It had simply come without preface. One night, it just happened, and I didn't know what to do.

A year after he'd married my human mother. The man who'd sworn his loyalty to her had come into my bedroom. I'd laid there, shocked and dumb, unable to speak or react. There was confusion, but mostly, indignity. Who was he to presume he could touch me? Who was he to presume such a thing would be accepted? So when his hand slipped into the waistband of my sleeping pants, I bit my lip and tried not to laugh, tried not to tell.

I tried not to think of how easily I could kill him.

'He's just drunk' I'd told myself. I told myself it wouldn't happen again, and just to let it go under the assumption that human minds were weak, that he'd simply mistaken my bedroom for his own, mistaken my body for his wife's.

...That is, until he'd come in sober.

My mother was at a friends house that evening, 7:19 pm on a Friday. I'd been sitting at my desk, reading Fyodor Dostoyevsky in my downtime. He'd come into my room very quietly; in my years in the human world, I'd learned to pretend not to notice small noises, as most humans did not. I was trying not to seem strange to him.

"Suichi?"

I smelled the alcohol before he'd entered the hallway.

"Yes, Kazuya-san?"

I ground my teeth together; like an animal before a disaster, I could sense something terrible. I put it off as being paranoid, didn't reach out to the plants on my windowsill nor the knife beneath my desk. The door shut with a click behind him, "Homework, again?" I smiled, feeling dangerous, not yet turning to face him.

"No, father," I mumbled, turning the page, trying to make a point (_GET OUT_), "Just leisurely reading. Nothing more." His hands brushed through my hair.

"You should take better care of yourself,"

I was reminded of Karasu.

"Boy your age really should be getting out more, don't you think?"

Trying not to care, I brushed his hand aside, "I disagree. The world of those my age are filled with foolishness and nervous discovery. I prefer my own home to watching them make fools of themselves..."

I bit my lip, squeezing my eyes shut as his hand slid down the front of my shirt. (_Get out, GET OUT fucking pervert I will KILL YOU...)_

"Your mother doesn't worry?"

"...Should she?" I turned sharply, letting my eyes meet his own with a swiftness I had not yet let him witness. For a moment, I was satisfied with his startled expression as I stood, straightening my shirt where his wandering fingers had wrinkled it.

"I think she should, Suichi," he laughed, walking out the door with nothing else to say, "You're not to be trusted..."

That night, he'd stayed away. Until I'd fallen asleep, after midnight. I suppose he came in around one, as I was deeply slumbering enough not to notice him until his hands brushed against my hair.

"Shhh," he whispered, "No need to panic."

'It's not I who should be panicked, you fool...' I turned, feigning sleepiness, "Can I help you, father?" He smiled, shadows dancing from the only light, in the hallway, "I think you can...and I think you know already." I closed my eyes, smiling bitterly, "Why, father, I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about. Enlighten me?"

I was waiting for him to slip up. And he did.

My mother's husband pulled the covers off of me, letting them whisper onto the floor as though perfectly normal. I pretended to be ignorant, hid my smile behind my fingers. I hated him.

"Su-chan," he murmered, brushing his lips against mine. I wanted to bite him. "Kurama..."

I gripped his shirt, all masks of the sleeping teenager vanished with three syllables, "How do you know that name?!" I glared, pushed him against the wall.

"Isn't that what your little boyfriend calls you?" I raised an eyebrow, "What?"

And then, Hiei's name slipped out. Fool. He'd assumed Hiei was my lover? I chuckled, shaking my head, "Get out. You don't know what you're dealing with. Just go to sleep."

I'd underestimated the strength of humans.

He slammed me against the headboard and the back of my skull exploded in pain.

"Don't make it hurt," he whispered, "Not if it doesn't have to." I knew what he meant. I tried to deny it.

"K..." I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat as his fingers slipped beneath my shirt, stroking my chest. All instincts screamed at me to fight when he neared the hollow of my throat. I gripped his wrist, hearing the bones creak.

"Be a good son, now," he murmered, pressing my trachea, "And no one has to bleed. Understand." Such an unusually subtle threat, coming from a human; he wasn't just threatening me anymore...this I was certain of.

But...how could he hurt anyone from inside his grave?

I laughed, louder than a human could when being strangled. His eyes widened and he pushed harder; I could see the fear rising when my hair stood on end, static, when my laughter did not die down.

"You're such a fool," I shoved him away easily, satisfied with the thud his head made against my mirror. Blood on shattered glass. "Tell me," I crouched before him, smearing the blood across his forehead, "How long did you really think you could get away with this?"

He was speechless. Good. He'd told me not to make it hurt; his mistake. It was going to hurt, greatly.

"You'll think twice before touching me again," I smiled, rising slowly to my feet and letting my shadow cast over his frame. It was finally my turn to play the hunter.

"I'll tell you what, _father_," I purred the surname, straightened his tie, "I will give you until the count of ten to find a good hiding place. If I don't find you within the hour, I'm yours, for as long as you wish. However," I grinned, letting him see my tongue flick over my sharp teeth, "If I find you, you're mine. And, as always, no one speaks a word of this. My life or yours. Understand?" He didn't move and I let my hand fly across his face, splitting his lip as he had done to me so many times, "I asked you a question, you fool!"

"Fine...fine," he shook his head, grinding his teeth, "...What are you?"

I laughed, "Why, I'm your stepson, of course! And you really should have thought long and hard before threatening me OR my home. Now, shall we begin? One...two...three..."

As I let my eyes slide closed, I felt my hair drain of color as his frantic noises faded out. He'd gone running out of my room. Predictibly, he'd gone to the phone first, no doubt to report that his son had gone mad.

Of course...I had pulled all the chords out.

"That won't work!" I called out, "Five...six..."

Doors sliding. He was in the backyard. I didn't intend to cheat.

"Eight...nine..."

I jumped out my window just as he'd hidden behind my tree. A stupid place to hide. The cherry blossoms and I had known eachother for sixteen years; they wouldn't protect him. I allowed myself the luxury of stroking the strawberry vines as I passed, letting the grass caress my ankles. The smells were sweet. They craved blood as much as I had these past few years. It was time to feed.

"Oh, father, tsk tsk," I jumped fluidly into the branches, crawling, lizard like over the bark, "Did you really think this would be fair game?" I laughed, "Do you have any idea what I am?" I was satisfied with the widening of his eyes, hearing his blood pressure sky rocket.

"I," I whispered, pressing my hand over his mouth and my claws into his throat, "Am your son. And you really picked a poor family to piss off..." I laughed, "Don't worry. As far as mother and Kokoda will know, you were killed by robbers. Trust me, I'll stage it perfectly." I let his fear reach a delicious peak before ripping his very heart out of his chest, watching the blood run down my white arms and onto the grass, where my plants drunk it greedily. I licked my claws and stood, looking up at my faithful tree. "There there," I pet her, "No one will threaten to cut you down again. Gazebo, my eye..."

I shook my head, let a venus trap consume most of the innards, while I hummed and planted a knife by his body.

Hatred was a delicious reason to kill...

END


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